


lightest touch

by nightimedreamer



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Boys In Love, Comfort, Fluff, I just want them to be happy, M/M, TW: TENDERNESS ahead. Beware!!, The word of the day is astonishment, just some intimacy, kind of????, like so so so so in love, so this is soft & tender, they're in love okay, zero plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightimedreamer/pseuds/nightimedreamer
Summary: "You're touching me in all the important places.No, no. You're touching me like all the places are important."Simon lets Baz touch him.TW: a lot of tenderness, yearning and other feelings that keep me awake at night.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 32
Kudos: 147
Collections: My Favorite Snowbaz Fics





	lightest touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adamarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/gifts), [theflyingpeach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflyingpeach/gifts).
  * Inspired by [rawest form](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559810) by [Adamarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/pseuds/Adamarks). 



> Hello! I just needed to get all this tenderness off my system after reading 'rawest form'. This thing was haunting my sleep. (Go read it!!!)  
> Also, I needed a break from the two long fics I'm currently working in, so this is kind of my comfort writing. I hope you enjoy!

I guess it's your turn, now. 

I don't feel like I owe you this—but you ask me nicely, and you gave me this. The least I can do is give it back to you. 

Besides, I... I really want you to have this. To have _me_ like this. To know me like this: by touch, by fingertips, learning me in a way nobody else will ever learn. 

I can't see you in the dark, but I know the way you're looking at me—I think you think I've never noticed, but sometimes I'd catch you in the corner of my eye. Looking at me like you're... Afraid? Astonished.

What I know is that this look makes me afraid. Even after all this time. Your intensity, the things that shine in your eyes, and the fact that they're directed at me... 

It still startles me. Sometimes. 

(That's why I agreed to do this now, when I can't see you, but you can look at me as much as you want. I want you to have this.) 

You're hovering above me now, and I can feel your hesitation pulsating in the air. I huff, because we've got no time to waste. Don't you see? The sun will be coming up soon, the sky is already blushing; deep blues holding the stars farther above the horizon as it clears. 

I want to wrap myself in your arms and sleep some more before morning comes. But I also want you to take as much time as you want, as you need, with me. So, rush. 

I take your hand and give you a starting point.

"It's okay..." your voice isn't much more than a breath, and for a moment I don't know if you're talking to me or to yourself. "It's okay if you don't want. This." 

"Baz," I don't move, but you do. Your fingers curl into the soft flesh of my side. "I do. I do because you want to." 

You sigh. Then, you lean in and your lips ghost over mine, your breath warming my face. But you don't kiss me yet. You've still got a long path until you get there.

You start running your hands up and down my sides, smoothly, like you're trying to warm them. (It warms me. For a moment, I feel so hot.) Then, they trail down, just your fingertips, tracing the outline of my body. Down, down: my hips and my thighs, my knees, my calf. You wrap your long fingers around my ankles, rubs my heels with your thumbs. Then, you grab my feet. 

You give attention to each of them separately. Press your fingers into my soles, squeezes my toes, lightly. Ever so lightly. Is this supposed to be a massage? Because I'm fairly sure they can't be so gentle. 

When you're done with my feet, you go upwards again. This time, you start pressing a spot on my ankle: a mole, isn't it? Your fingers trail up, barely touching me, just stopping occasionally to press apparently random spots on my skin. (I know they're not). 

You touch the moles inside my thighs, up and up, over my crotch. Your fingers caress the hair there, light and hesitant. I don't make a sound. 

Up: you caress my belly, a single finger tracing around my button. You follow the trail of thin hair that goes up from there. (I know I'm softer than I used to be, but you don't seem to care.) You dip your head down and kiss just above my belly button, nuzzling the rest of your way up. 

And my moles. You touch each of them like you're maping me.

I wonder if you can see them or if you know where they are by heart, by looking at then long enough to have memorized. (The thought makes my heart jump a little, but not in an unpleasant way.) 

Your thumbs rub my nipples, just once. Softly. You lower your head again, this time just resting it over my chest. Over my heart. 

You're touching me in all the important places. 

No, no. You're touching me like _all_ the places are important.

Your touch is faint as starlight, like I'm made of dragonfly wings. I assure you, love: I'm not translucent, and I'm not afraid of you breaking me. 

"I trust you." I whisper into the air between us. You hum against my skin. 

"Thank you." You breath. 

Then, you set out on your journey once more, across me. 

Your hands venture down my back, ghosting over my shoulders. You kiss every single mole scattered over them, and then your hands start covering my arms. 

I feel warm again. Warm, and then cold. You make me melt, and then shiver. 

Finally, your fingers cup my neck, traveling up and up. My jaw, my moles. Behind my ears, tracing my mouth and my nose and my eyebrows. You place each thumb over one of my eyes. You kiss them, and I can see you. Even though it's dark and my eyes are shut, I can see you so clearly, Baz. 

Most importantly: you can see me too. 

You finally kiss me when your fingers wind up into my hair. 

"You're lovely." You say against my mouth. "So, so lovely, Simon." 

I open my eyes and now I can actually see you. The look on your face. 

You look astounded. Like I'm something precious. I'm yours, and you just can't believe it. 

But I do. And at this moment, I believe what your hands have been telling me. 

I believe you. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is it, this is the fic. My heart fluids spilled right into the posting page.  
> Thanks for reading, folks! 💕💕💕


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